Anchor
by vividfantasy7
Summary: A collection of fics for the prompts of Talisto week of 2019
1. Alone together (Anchor)

Talisto week 2019 - #2 Alone together

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Mephisto has no delusions concerning his or his sister's fate once whatever became of Praxina, whatever is possessing her, is defeated – though they were young, lied to and without choice, they still stood with the man that took and ruined the lives of the Ephidian people. They still helped a tyrant cement his rule and terrorize the people into submission – and though their involvement thankfully would not warrant the loss of their lives, it would still end with them either in prison for life or shoved to the farthest and most isolated parts of the planet.

And yet, he lets his mind wander with what if's – what if they were on the princesses' side from the beginning? What if Prax and him switched sides before Gramorr's fall? What if after everything he (they) was allowed to stay? He knows his thoughts are irrational, that he is unworthy of redemption, of _forgiveness _– yet he still yearns for it more and more the longer he is with his former enemies, the more he learns of them as well as his new foe.

Sometimes he thinks this is the universe punishing him – showing him what he could have had: as he is falling apart in the arena, spent and on the verge of a breakdown as warm fingers caress his face calling his name in worry (something he never would have guessed, but then again the Xerin princess was no stranger to his plight) and it takes everything in him not to press into her touch, not to reach out and pull her closer and bury his face (along with his worries and insecurities) in her neck and never let go. But he refuses to give into his impulses, pushing her away and himself to his feet steadying his breath (_his mind, his heart_) and telling her to continue on. He pretends not to see the worry, confusion and hurt that flashes through her eyes and pushes through her training again and again and again until he's at the breaking point once more – and once more he pushes through stronger and more heartbroken than before. Then again, there is no one else to blame but himself.

He is at that point again, on his knees and broken, _so broken,_ and her hand caresses his face as her tears slide down his cheek and her golden orbs shine with so many emotions that makes him realize she's broken too (and isn't it his fault too?) and just this once he let's go as he reaches for her face, gloved fingers wiping away the tear streaks and pushing aquamarine tresses away from her eyes. His voice is heavy and staggering as he calls her name and he feels something warm at his lips and at his side that he refuses to analyze at the moment, ignores it together with Praxina's anguished cry (he hopes with all his heart this would free his sister from Banes' claws) and the princesses' panicked cry for help.

Instead he concentrates all his senses on the woman cradling his prone form with all his might; the calloused fingers on his face, eyes full of worry and desperation and _affection_. The lilt of her voice as she demands he stays alive _because dammit they didn't fight for him to die the last minute_, the way it sounds as her demands turn to pleads, begging him to stay, to not leave, as _please, please, please_ falls from her lips and he so wishes to obey her command. But his body is heavy and weary and he fights the feeling of being pulled under – the sound of her voice, the feel of her skin against him the anchor keeping him above waters if even for just a split second. His eyelids are heavy and he knows he lost the fight as the noises grow faraway and he feels _not-quite-there_ but he doesn't mind. For that one last moment there is no one but her and him (alone and together – despite all the people around them, despite him pushing her away fearing the consequences if he didn't); her name falling from his lips in a broken sigh as a smile graces his lips before _cold _and _dark _envelopes his senses and he slips under.

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Skillet's _Anchor_ was on repeat for this one ;)


	2. Dance with me (Stars)

Talisto week 2019 - #3 Dance with me

Continuation of prompt #2

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Mephisto dreams of a place, of _cold _and _dark _and _nothingness _as far as the eye can see – a never changing landscape no matter how fast he runs or how high he flies. He's not sure how much time passes (a moment? An hour? Weeks or years?) before a star lights up on the horizon and draws closer until it's before him – it shines with ethereal light and he feels unworthy to stand so near it, to even look at it. He wants to step away, to look away, to not sully it with his presence before the light falls away and suddenly he _can't _look away – aquamarine tresses frame a familiar face as eyes that glow with the warmness of a thousand suns gaze at him with an emotion he's too afraid to name. His heart decides to kick his mind out of control and takes over as, against his will, trembling hands reach for her face, calloused fingers stroking soft skin. The moment she tilts her head just the slightest bit and nuzzles into his hand he loses it – he crushes her form to him and buries his face in the crook of her neck. He feels his tears overflow as sobs wreck his body and his mind becomes a jumble of memories, feeling and half formed thoughts – he'd collapse if not for her arms around him keeping him steady and standing, _an anchor_ his weary mind provides, a memory surfacing just a moment before going under again.

He cries and cries until his throat is sore and his voice scratchy, never once letting go of her embrace. When his sobs finally die away and he is able to breath near properly he pulls back enough to rest his forehead against hers, his hands wandering to her waist and drawing patterns into her dress. He let his eyes stay closed, instead focusing on the feeling of her fingers caressing his neck and face gently, her body pushing against his with no space between them, her breath on his lips as she hums a soft tune that felt familiar yet not at the same time, how she swayed in place and with coaxed him into it too until they finally moved. He felt his lips stretch into a smile as he gave into temptation and moved their hands until they were in the perfect position for the Ephedian waltz; he could feel his eyes fill with the same warmth she radiated as he lead them from twirl to twirl in the empty space until he was laughing and something was breaking – in that moment he was weightless. Unchained. _Free_.

His gaze meets hers again and there is no hesitation when he leans in and meets her half way – tender kisses that turn more heated as the seconds go by and wandering hands peppered with smiles and laughter that he wants to never end, to hold onto with every fiber of his being. And he does and pulls her impossibly closer and let's himself get lost in the feel of her very being.

The next time he breaks away for breath and opens his eyes to look at her, Talia's eyes are shining with unshed tears, her gaze full of relief and warmth and affection (and something he still doesn't dare to name), and he instinctively reaches for her only to realize he can't – his body is heavy and refuses to cooperate and panic rears its head. He's frantic eyes land on the Xerin princess again and he realizes the familiar golden orbs shine an eerie white, her aquamarine tresses glacier blue, her whole body glowing an otherworldly light – the sight is grounding enough that his mind starts to take stock of his surroundings – the _cold _and _dark _and _nothingness _are gone replaced with _warmth _and _light _and _life_. There are several people he recognizes and through the gaps between them he sees a familiar form lying in a bed surrounded by scarlet sheets and suddenly he is _overwhelmed _– both with emotions and memories as their last fight against Banes (and Praxina) comes to the forefront of his mind he desperately fights the panic once again surging through him. Gentle hands grab his own and he holds on (as much as possible), following her voice until his head is above the waters once again and he can breathe. Tiredness hits him and he does not fight it as he falls into darkness once again – this one warm and healing.

He wakes to his sister's voice, bleary eyes taking her in – her hair longer but her form still gauntly, her eyes haunted and tired and so _relieved_. He crusher her form to his the same breath a sob leaves her and they cry and comfort each other until they are sore and spent from the effort and while his body is still aching and heavy his heart feels infinitely lighter.

Weeks go by and their judgment comes - to his surprise they're sentenced for the restoration of an ancient kingdom (though the wording is quite different) that they were descendants of (something they were unaware of and let's just say learning they weren't the last of their clan was quite a heavy load). They are whisked to the borders of Xeris where they meet several people with similar powers, a clan that was closed behind barriers by Gramorr and got free only by the defeat of Banes and spend the next months (and the coming years) to familiarize themselves with their own culture, to undo the perverted tales Gramorr planted into their minds and to face the consequences of their actions. The Zatteran's are mostly accommodating – they are just as much guilt ridden at not being able to save the children of their beloved Queen, of being trapped helpless but safe while the world suffered; they help the twins heal and repent while they face their own demons. They have no qualms as taking them as their new rulers, though the road until Praxina could take the throne is still long – but both her and Mephisto are eager; to learn their culture, to move on, to repent. And to heal.

The first anniversary of Banes' defeat comes and the newly implemented Kingdom of Zattera welcomes the Heroes of Ephedia with a festival that lasts a week. He stands next to Praxina (Heir to the Throne) and greets the different royal families and the handful of foreign nobles attending, trying but failing to concentrate on his duties as his eyes scan the crowd for aquamarine tresses and sun kissed dark skin until she stands before him and his lungs empty without his command his mind coming to a halt.

Talia stands behind her sister, tall and proud and radiant, her gaze straightforward and directed at him and he is _speechless_. Until the sorceress next to him elbows him lightly with the slightest frown and he gathers his wits to greet the Xerin Royal family (he refuses to acknowledge Izira's knowing smirk). He chances one glance to their leaving forms before he falls back into his role and welcomes the waves of emissaries into their castle.

He spends the night with obligatory small talk while his gaze roams the hall for the younger Xerin princess but to no avail. In the end. Iris is the one taking pity on him and directs him to the garden, at his questioning gaze she just says fangirls and leaves to find her fiancé. His mind supplies a few 'conversation' (more like interrogation) with scholars once they found out the twins were acquainted with a _Ghost Princess_. With a smirk stretching at his lips, he leaves for the outdoors.

It doesn't take long to find Talia sitting under a tree, an exasperated expression marring her face as she watches a nearby miniature waterfall. He stops before he is close enough for her to notice his presence and ponders on how to proceed – he imagined this moment so many times and so many ways, what he'd do and how she'd answer, yet now that he's but a step away he is unsure what to do. He stares for a moment, than two, than three until it stretches to minutes. His heart beats a staccato in his chest and he feels panic rear its ugly head when he sees her stand, obviously resolved to go back in and disappear from his sight again. His mind screams at him to move so he does, in a few steps he's before her while still keeping a respectful distance (although it pains him physically to not take that last step and close it). Her eyes meet his and his mind falters until he hears the beginning of a song in the background and an old dream surfaces in his memories.

The words come unbidden, her answering smile as warm as the one in that dream.

"Dance with me?"

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Wow, once again a Skillet inspired fic (u/u) what a _surprise_


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